Spring gave Winterfell a reason to shine, with the flowers blooming earlier than expected and birds singing sweetly. Arianne could not help but notice the sombre mood inside the dining hall, where her father had called her and her siblings too, and it made her want to shatter the joyful one outside.

He had just broken the news to his four offspring that only three of them would be attending the great Tourney that was to be held in Harrenhal. Brandon, Lyanna, and Benjen would all be packing their trunks and leaving in a sennight for the occasion; but Arianne ironically was to be held back to stay at home and continue her lessons while her father decided who was to be the best possible suitor for her.

"Father, please can I go?" She asked once more, begging almost. "If everyone else is going, I'm sure it'll be safe enough for me to go." Her pleas, however, fell on deaf ears. Her father raised his hand to indicate that he wanted her silence. If it would take a tantrum for her father to change his mind, then a tantrum she would have.

"Arianne, you are not safe unless I am present, we have discussed this already," Rickard sighed looking down at the young girl. He sat at the Lord's Table, with a large scroll in front of him. The letter read;

Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount & Warden of the North:

Lord Walter Whent & Lady Shella Whent of Harrenhal, extend their invitation to you, your family, and bannermen to celebrate the maidenhood of their daughter Lady Merida Whent. A Tourney is to be held in her honour and is to last ten days; let it be known to your men that there will be jousting, archery and swordsmanship competitions with prizes in gold and jewels to be given as rewards. Ten grand jousts and ten grand feasts. Arrive at Harrenhal by the third full moon of spring.

With regard,

Lord Walter Whent and Lady Shella Whent of Harrenhal.

Rickard could not fathom why Lord Whent would not merely state that they were invited to Harrenhal, but then again the Southerners enjoyed over complicating even the smallest of matters.

"Is it not right that Lyanna not go?" Arianne questioned much to Lyanna's dismay.

Lyanna, whom truly wanted her sister to accompany them, shook her head. "Father knows I can care for myself just fine." She piped.

Arianne turned to her expecting a but to follow, though it did not. Lyanna could not deny that being the only female representing her family would suit her better, even if she was betrothed. It would cause less raised brows and fewer questions asked. Deep down, however, she knew it was her selfish desire to have the attention of the nobility on her and her only. Something she did not have the delight of since her father had brought Arianne as a babe to Winterfell.

Suddenly, it did not matter to the maids so much if she skipped a step and grazed her knee so much, but rather if the new babe in the cradle was fed, bathed and burped enough. She had to give credit though; the attention began to wonder when Benjen was born, her mother opting to coo at him rather than play with her.

"Lyanna is to meet her betrothed. You have no betrothed," Rickard, pointed out.

To which Arianne mumbled, "I would if you let me free for once."

"I heard that." He turned his gaze from his daughter back to the scroll, sighing.

He knew this day would come when he wanted to keep her shielded, and she was willed enough to fight against him. Lilia had warned him. Watch your pace she is Dornish. We Dornish women do not like restrictions. However, he would hear none of it. As far as he was concerned, she was raised in the North as a Northern woman. Maybe Lilia had had a stronger influence on her than he would have liked. Recently he noticed how she would mimic her actions though he was sure she did not knowexactly why she did, her handmaiden did so she did.

"You cannot keep me cooped up in here for the rest of my day's father. I will go to Harrenhal."

Rickard looked at his children scowling. They had all been shuffling their feet awkwardly unsure of how to contribute to the conversation. "The hell, you will. You may leave; pack your bags you three. Brandon, Tomas will let you know on your duties during the journey and at the Tourney. You are to watch over your siblings; you will be mice in a pit of snakes. Do enjoy yourselves, but watch your tongues." Rickard did not have to ask twice, the three left, Lyanna giving a second glance to her sister and nodding. He understood her sadness, most expeditions, visits to holdfasts and other castles; Arianne was left to stay with Lilia.

He did not mean to purposefully hurt her, but protect her from those who did. Once the door to the hall was close, Arianne began tapping her foot loudly on the stone floors. "You must understand Arianne, I do this for your sake. The world is cruel and those within it crueller. A Tourney is no place for a young maiden to be."

"Merida is a maiden. Her family celebrates that," Arianne snapped back.

"Because Lord Whent is as rich as he is poor," Rickard responded, only to be given a quizzical look by Arianne. "He wants to find her a husband."

Arianne shrugged her shoulders. "There will be many young ladies there. I have never been south. Hell, I've never been past the lines that separate the North from the rest of the world."

"I am your father, and you will do as I say."

"Aye erm yer farther and ye will dew as aye sae," Arianne mimicked. An occasional thing she did when she felt herself losing in an argument. Though she thought it irked him, Rickard worked hard to stifle his laughter from her scrunched up face.

"Watch yourself, Arianne."

"I am going to Harrenhal and for the first time since I can remember, I will meet people outside of these walls. I am Dornish you forget-"

Rickard shook his head. "How? How do you know what Dornishmen even act like?"

Arianne glared at him once more. Her eyes were squinting so close together it almost seemed as if she did not see a thing. Rickard sighed, having had enough of her attitude and lack of respect, and got up from his chair. "You are young, willful and naïve. I don't want them to hurt you is all."

"Father," Arianne whispered as he climbed down the steps to the Lord's Table and stood in front of her. "You have kept me safe for my entire life. Is it not fair that I have this one experience? You were the one who told me I could marry for love. How will I find love if I do not look for it? You learned to let Lyanna free, and I obeyed your every command, so now you must learn to let me free. I know you will be lonely here for a few moons, but we will see you again in Riverrun and then we will follow you to Storm's End. And then we all will finally be back home."

How could he refuse those eyes that blinked up at him? He placed his hand on her face, exhaling. "Don't you think I know these things? You are the last I have control over. You know Lyanna she has never listened. Brandon and Benjen have become grown men; I cannot keep them under my eye as I have always done. You are my child, and I will not be there to protect you as I have. The others they have their names to keep them from people's lips. You will be someone to gawk over, something to jab and pet. I do not want a daughter who will be stripped of her honour returned to me. I want a daughter who has learned how to conduct herself in society and has enjoyed herself."

"And I will father if you let me go. If it is my eyes you fear people will call strange, Nan has told me that the royal possesses them too. She has also said if they ask that some Dornishmen have it too, and I will tell them it is a common trait or I will beat them bloody like I did Benjen," Arianne smiled clutching her father's hand.

Rickard laughed; "I look weak now," he said.

"No, you aren't. A lord who knows how to accept defeat is the strongest of them all."

"I see your poetry is improving," Rickard smiled. Arianne nodded back, proud that he had noticed. "To your room. I will call for a seamstress to come."

"Oh thank you, father! I will not let you down I promise. I will be the perfect lady-," the heavy door muting her shouts of glee.

Rickard watched her for a few moments, realized that he looked foolish standing in the middle of the hall alone and returned to his seat. How he hated reading through the letters that seemed to arrive by the load every morning.

"They say wars are easier than daughters," the soft voice of Lilia wondered into the room. She had entered through the servants' door carrying a jug of ale and a cap on a tray. She placed the tray gently beside the letters that were scattered in front of him.

"Those who say that have never seen a true war," Rickard responded, taking the cup once she had finished pouring the ale.

Lilia laughed. "I take it she has convinced you to let her go? You could hear her screams from the kitchens."

"You were right. She was angry at first, quiet at second-"

"And so very understanding at third. She has you wrapped around her little finger Rickard," Lilia smiled sitting next to him.

Rickard looked to the handmaiden, she was right. Lilia had predicted everything that Arianne would do when asking her father to go. She had predicted the same thing when Lilia asked for a name day celebration when she asked for almost anything Lilia knew when and how the girl would ask for it. "Aye, she does."

"So what if people ask questions?"

"I was hoping you would go with her? Help her."

Lilia looked at the Lord as if he were a fool. "If I know any of those families, and I do, it's that they never change servants from when the servant is hired until their death or resignation. So unless a freak accident has hit the South, then everyone there whom I worked with will recognise me. They will recognise her as well if she is with me. It's best she go alone; I can tell her what to tell them if that's what you fear."

Rickard nodded. The room grew silent, the only sound coming from the crackling of the fire or wind hitting the windows.

They call this spring. Lilia thought. Ever since her arrival at Winterfell fifteen years ago, she was sure, her body had frozen, and she was walking around like a snowflake at times. She began to think about their first day, Arianne and her, at Winterfell.

How when she had been bathed and rested, the next day she took Arianne for a walk around the grounds. She did not trust the people of Winterfell yet, and she held Arianne so tight in her arms she was sure that she stopped breathing. Though she would soon come to realize that they were, most of them, gentle souls. How Rickard had commanded they be treated no differently than they would treat each other. Lilia had grown to make friends that she knew she would love forever. Oh, how she had missed her friends from Dorne; but her mother had warned her a handmaiden may sound like a petty job, but at times it can cost you your life.

And that it did. Lilia had lost everything she held dear when her Lady and best friend instructed her to ride as far as South went until she hit Meereen if that is what it took to keep her baby safe.

Lilia, who planned to leave on the dead of the night, then stumbled upon Rickard who had come to take the baby on the Kings orders. He stood at the steps, hand outstretched, armour gleaming and blood sprayed across his face. She thought he had come to kill the freshly born babe and remembered how she ran down the steps, foolishly at that because he had guards who were ready to grab her and kill her if need be, even though he denied it. He let her live, for he knew that seven guards and one Lord would not be able to hold nor care for a babe.

She also remembered catching a glimpse of her lover's dead eyes and body that lay sprawled upon the castle steps that night. It was a bloodbath. Even though Rickard assured her he was there to take the babe to the North and keep her safe, she struggled to forgive him for killing her love. If had it not been for Rickard, Lilia knew that both her and Arianne would be dead. No one noticed their departure from Dorne for they left in secret late at night.

Well, she lost hers and he lost his, the world sorted that out for her and she forgave him quickly after. She was sure he missed his wife dearly, she was the true star in his skies but she missed the man she called lover that he had killed equally.

"What are you thinking of?" Rickard asked. He was muffled in her daydreams; she shook herself awake from her daze.

"Just a tale of a handmaiden kidnapped by a Lord, who was forced to work for him and pour him ale," Lilia smiled.

Rickard smiled back at her. She had grown accustomed to the rare sight of him smiling. He rarely did so in front of the other Lords, but around his children and her, he would let a smile slip out here and there. "Oh kidnapped you say?"

"Yes. And one fateful day she poisons him and steals his gold and goes home."

"She sounds horrible."

"She!? He kidnapped her," Lilia gasped raising her right hand to hit his shoulder.

Before she could though, Rickard grabbed it tightly. "Careful now, striking your Lord is an act of treason Lilia." He whispered.

Lilia stared at him and raised her brow. "Oh is it now?" She raised her left hand to hit his shoulder.

He was much quicker than her she had come to realise because he held that one tightly in his right hand. She sat next to him both arms held up in the air, chest heaving from her laughter and face flushed. It was not the first time that Rickard had shown her attention, but she had always tried to brush it off as a husband missing his dead wife.

She tried her hardest to look away from his lips as her laughter died down and the room was filled with silence once more. Rickard wondered why the little handmaiden was avoiding his eyes and tried to follow her gaze with his. He struggled to do so though, his eyes would fall ever so innocently to her heaving chest, and she had not bothered to wear undergarments today.

She must have grown used to the weather or she was embracing spring, whatever it was he enjoyed it. And he could not help himself from what he did next. He had stayed faithful for fifteen years to his dead wife, but she was just a memory now. How long was a man expected to be faithful for before it was acceptable that what he did was not out of mourning for her, but out of pure lust or love or both?

Lilia could not help herself either. It was just two lonely souls trying to unburden themselves of fifteen years of a loveless life. When he leaned in to kiss her, she could not help but kiss him back. Innocently at first, the friends did not know what hunger lurked in the pits of their stomachs, but Rickard made it known. He let her hands-free from his grip and lifted her from the chair and onto the table, pushing aside the tray, toppling the jug and cup onto the floor and facing her towards him. He felt a sudden lurch in his chest and felt compelled to kiss her harder; she reciprocated grabbing at the back of his neck.

"Rickard," she whispered when his hands began to slide under her dress.

He pulled away. "I'm sorry, forgive me. I don't know what-,"

She laughed wrapping her legs around his abdomen. "I was just going to ask if the Lord's high table was the best place."

He answered her by tearing at the front of her dress, buttons that held it together ran free all over the floor underneath them. "Aye, it's the perfect place."

...

"Your sister's Brandon; never let them out of your sight. You are to wait for the others when you arrive at Moat Cailin, rest there if you must, then continue on the King's road. Rest at Greywater Watch, a two-day journey to The Trident; you'll find a somewhere to stop there, and then straight ahead until you arrive at Harrenhal on the day of the full moon. Understood? Tomas and Maester Luwin will travel with you to make sure you are taking the right road; Roose Bolton has travelled to the Riverlands before so if you need anything ask him. Do not waste our ravens as well. Keep everyone fed and warm understood?. You won't be comfortable until you hit the twins, the weather here is very different than it is in the South." Rickard rambled, patting Brandon on the back as he instructed him.

"For the third time father, I have mapped it out. We will get there one time, and if we do not, they will wait for us. The King won't allow his favourite warden's children to be left out of all the fun will he?" Brandon smiled as he put on his leather gloves.

Rickard nodded proudly, Brandon reminding him too much of himself at that particular moment. "The girls are in the carriage?"

"Aye, have you said your goodbyes to them?"

"I have. Make sure Benjen does not mingle with the men of the Black or the Kingsguard too much. No son of mine is to swear fealty to anyone or anything but his house."

"Keep Benjen away from his dreams, got it." Brandon laughed shaking his head at his father.

"Brandon."

"I'll do my best."

And with that, Brandon turned away and climbed atop his horse. Rickard signalled for the gates to be opened, not wanting to dwell on the thought of being away from his children for so long, and shouted his farewells.

"Don't miss us too much!" Lyanna smiled, her head poking out from the window.

Arianne who Rickard guessed pulled her sister back in appeared from it and smiled at her father as she waved. He waved back, though he did not think she saw as the gates lurch closed behind them. The soldiers who had waited outside of the gates followed behind them, some on horses, and others on foot. "Gods be good," Rickard mumbled to himself.

"They will be fine," Lilia whispered, taking his arm in hers. "You have taught Brandon enough."

"It's not them I'm worried about."